Thankful For Family
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Shiore-Hikaru suggested I write a Thanksgiving story where Harley Quinn's parents come to visit her at Arkham and meet the Joker, so I did. After all, if family doesn't save us from the madhouse, it drives us to it! ;-) Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! :-)


**Thankful for Family**

"Why pizza?" asked the trainee doctor as he accompanied Dr. Leland down the hall of Arkham Asylum to the cafeteria. "Why not the traditional Thanksgiving meal? Y'know, turkey and stuffing…"

"You should see what kind of damage the Joker can do with a turkey bone," interrupted Dr. Leland. "And you would have, had you been here in '06. Since then, we haven't served turkey. There are too many painful associations. Plus it's best not to serve them anything they can use as a weapon. But then with the Joker, anything can be used as a weapon. He strangled someone with a napkin once, but we really can't justify getting rid of those. But this is why we have to monitor them during the meal, so incidents like that don't happen again."

"Oh…right," stammered the trainee doctor, instantly regretting his decision to train here.

Dr. Leland clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine," she said, with more confidence than she felt. Arkham went through doctors like Batman went through henchmen. She hoped this one at least would survive the holiday.

She opened the door to the cafeteria, where as usual in Arkham, chaos reigned. Poison Ivy was screaming at the top of her lungs, gazing at the pizza in horror, and suddenly knocked past Dr. Leland and raced from the room, hands clapped over her mouth. "Pamela has a sensitivity towards plants," explained Dr. Leland, calmly. "I imagine the tomato sauce is like blood to her."

"Can we all just form an orderly line?" called Jonathan Crane, as he waited patiently for a slice of pizza, holding a plate in his hand. "We're not children. Or European. No offense, Jervis."

"I'm English, that's hardly the same thing," retorted Jervis Tetch. "If there's one thing we know how to do, it's queue…"

"Outta my way, nerds!" shouted the Joker, shoving them aside to reach the pizza table first. "Nice guys lose out on pizza! Now where's the turkey one? Can't have Thanksgiving without turkey!"

"I don't think they make turkey pizza, Mr. J," said Harley Quinn, lifting the lids on the boxes to examine them. "But here's pepperoni, and sausage, and…"

Her face suddenly went pale. "An…anchovies," she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut. "I hate fish!" she hissed. "Hate, hate, hate!"

"Aw, cheer up, pooh," said Joker, patting her on the head. "Daddy will get rid of the nasty old fish. Hey, Eddie, head's up!" he shouted, picking up the pizza like a frisbee and throwing it across the room. It hit Edward Nygma squarely in the face. He slowly pulled the pizza away, glaring at Joker, and then suddenly threw it back at him, hitting him in the back of the head.

The food fight that followed resulted in all the current inmates wearing their Thanksgiving meal rather than eating it. "You know, Christmas is only a few weeks away, and right now you're all on the naughty list!" shouted Dr. Leland, furiously, trying to wipe the stray food off her clothes.

Joker snorted, wiping tomato sauce out of his eye. "I'll be outta here by Christmas, so who cares?" he retorted.

"Frankly, Joker, the sooner you're out of here, the better," snapped Dr. Leland. "I know that's selfish of me to say, since your escapes always result in the deaths of innocent people, but right now my blood pressure is convincing me that I'd rather you be outta my hair!"

She stormed from the room with the trainee doctor following her, already composing his resignation letter in his head.

Dr. Leland entered her office and slammed the door, breathing heavily. "Um…Dr. Leland?" said a voice.

She turned around to see a man and a woman seated in front of her desk, a man and a woman she had never seen before. "Uh…yes," stammered Dr. Leland, trying to regain her professional composure. "That's me. How can I help you?"

"We're trying to locate an employee of yours," said the woman. "At least, we think she's still employed here."

"I see. Who is it?" asked Dr. Leland, taking a seat behind her desk.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel," replied the woman.

Dr. Leland studied them carefully. "And…uh…may I ask why you wish to get in touch with her?"

The woman smiled. "We're her parents," she said.

Dr. Leland nearly fell off her chair. She gaped at them in astonishment. "Her…parents?" she stammered. "And you don't know…I mean…uh…you haven't heard from her since she started working here? It was some time ago now…"

"Oh, well, she and her father had a falling out shortly after she got the job at Arkham," said the woman, Mrs. Quinzel. "George still won't tell me what the fight was about, but it was a good one. Temper is a bit of a Quinzel family trait and…uh…we haven't spoken since. But…well, I do miss her, and I just thought after all this time and in the spirit of the holiday and the season that we might try…to forgive each other and be a family again."

Dr. Leland folded her hands together. "Um…I take it you're not Gotham locals?"

"No, doctor," agreed the woman. "We've come all the way from Brooklyn. Drove down in some pretty nasty weather too, didn't we, George?"

Dr. Leland focused on Mr. Quinzel, who hadn't said a word since she had entered the room. His arms were folded across his chest, and the look in his eyes could kindly be described as hostile. He nodded slightly in response to his wife's question, but kept his lips tightly closed.

"So you're unfamiliar with a lot of…local celebrities," continued Dr. Leland, slowly. "The supercriminals and the like…"

"The people you treat here, you mean?" asked Mrs. Quinzel. "Um…yes. We don't really read the papers, do we, George?"

Mr. Quinzel grunted in response. "Why do you ask?" said Mrs. Quinzel to Dr. Leland.

"Just…uh…just curious," stammered Dr. Leland. She honestly had no idea how to handle this situation. If she told the Quinzels about their daughter's transformation into Harley Quinn, she didn't want to be held responsible for their actions. Mr. Quinzel especially looked like he might explode from rage from even a minor annoyance, let alone the revelation that his daughter had lost her sanity and become a murdering supercriminal.

It was Harley's responsibility to tell them. Or to decide not to, although Dr. Leland wasn't sure a thing like a criminal identity could be kept a secret for very long.

She stood up suddenly. "Well, I shouldn't keep you away from your daughter any longer. I warn you, she might be in a bit of a state – the patients just had a food fight and as you can see, not even the doctors were spared," she said, nodding at her own stained clothing.

"Oh, I don't care how she looks, Dr. Leland," said Mrs. Quinzel, sincerely. "I just want to see her again, after all this time. I just want to give my baby girl a big hug and tell her how much I love her. And you do too, don't you, George?"

Mr. Quinzel didn't respond to this, except to tighten his jaw. Dr. Leland was relieved Harley was the one who would have to deal with him.

She led the Quinzels back down the hall to the cafeteria. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Harley was licking stray bits of pizza off the Joker's face as he was loudly explaining the role food played in his sex life. "…I mean, you think ice cream's a great idea at the time, because it's kinda romantic, and who doesn't love the taste? But you forget how cold it is. By the time you're recovered from the shock of something frozen stinging your naked skin, you're kinda outta the mood. Unless you're Mr. Freeze, I guess," he chuckled. "Boy, his wife is gonna have to get used to some weird stuff if she ever wakes up from that coma. But my point is that you have to be careful what kinda food you use in the bedroom. Chilies are another thing I don't recommend. On any sensitive part of your body. Ever. Still, despite the occasional setback, I think I've always stuffed my bird pretty good on Thanksgiving, and the rest of the year," he chuckled. "Ain't that right, Harley?"

"That's right, Mr…" began Harley adoringly, but her tongue froze halfway up his cheek as she noticed the visitors, and a look of shock and horror clouded her eyes.

"Mom!" she exclaimed suddenly, straightening up and forcing a smile. "Dad! What…are you both doing here?"

Mrs. Quinzel was staring at Harley with tears of joy in her eyes, and she suddenly rushed forward to hug her. "Oh, baby!" she gasped, squeezing her tightly. "My baby! It's so good to see you again!"

Harley returned the hug, and then shared a look with her father. They seemed to communicate without speaking, only with their eyes. Then Mr. Quinzel cleared his throat.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Harley," he said, casually. "Won't you introduce us to everyone?"

"Oh…yeah…Dad," stammered Harley. "Uh…these are some of Gotham's most famous supercriminals and residents of Arkham Asylum. Uh…this here is Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, and Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter, and Edward Nygma, the Riddler, and…"

She paused at the Joker. He looked back at her in confusion. "What gives, Harley?" he muttered. "Hi, I'm the Joker," he said, extending his hand. "Harley's boy…"

"Boisterous patient," interrupted Harley, intercepting his hand and petting it gently. "Now Mr. Joker, we've talked about trying not to assert yourself, haven't we, or do we need to review it during tomorrow's session?"

Joker stared at her. "Harley…"

"I'm on first name terms with all of my patients," interrupted Harley, beaming at her parents. "Sounds a lot friendlier than Dr. Quinzel, doesn't it? That's a new type of therapy I'm trying – relating to the patients and trying to treat them as friends and equals. That's why I'm dressed in this inmate uniform, in fact. Blending in with them is all part of the rehabilitation process."

She squeezed Joker's hand tightly and gave him a pleading look to play along. He continued to stare at her in confusion. He hadn't ever expected Harley to deny their relationship to anyone, and certainly not to her parents. He had never thought she was ashamed of it. She shouldn't be ashamed, after all – he was quite the catch. The greatest criminal Gotham City had ever known, handsome, talented, clever, brave, funny, the list went on and on. Good boyfriend material, anyone could see that. So why was she refusing to tell her parents the truth?

"Can we take you out for Thanksgiving dinner, baby?" asked Mrs. Quinzel. "If you're not too busy with work and have time for a lunch break, of course…"

"Oh…uh…sounds great, Mom, only…I gotta get Dr. Leland's permission," said Harley, glancing at her.

Dr. Leland nodded. Harley clearly wasn't going to try to escape with her parents guarding her. She seemed terrified of them, or maybe not _of _them…maybe she was just terrified of disappointing them. And who wouldn't be disappointed in Harley if they knew the truth about her?

"It's fine with me, Harley," Dr. Leland replied. "Take as long as you need. Family comes first, after all."

"Uh…yeah," stammered Harley. "Yeah, it…does."

She glanced at her father, and then at the Joker. "Uh…I'll see you at our session later, Mr. Joker to…uh…discuss things," she murmured. And then she and her mother left the room.

Mr. Quinzel made to follow them, but paused, turning to face the Joker again. The look in his eyes was indescribable – a mixture of pain, rage, loathing, and fury. The Joker gazed back at him, unafraid, but certain of one thing: Harley's father knew the truth.


End file.
